


A Private War

by Senji



Category: Elenium/Tamuli Series - David & Leigh Eddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-22
Updated: 2005-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senji/pseuds/Senji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Itagne and Oscagne find themselves at odds</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private War

**Author's Note:**

> Written for misura

 

 

When we talk about war the images that tend to come to mind are the Atan Legions, or the more recent sight of Church Knights stretching from horizon to horizon, but war is a more complex creature than that, and the same principles can often be seen at work in much more limited contexts. If I may be allowed the indulgence of my audience, most particularly Atana Maris, then I shall relate a short tale which might help to illustrate my point.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was some years back now that the good Foreign Minister Oscagne was a senior student at the University, and at that time his brother had just started learning here. Much as now they had an established rivalry between themselves but, in practice, were very much each other's friends and often met in the commissary over a meal to discuss such things as are on the minds of all young students.

"...so, of course, I offered to help her with her paper, which means I'll have to run off fairly soon after we've finished."

"Do you think you can manage to emulate what the old men in Contemporary History profess to believe the truth is?"

"I think so, don't forget I took the same course last year myself."

"Oh, yes," Itagne grinned, "It is no difficulty remembering the vituperation you piled on Quinsal after every one of his lectures. I seem to recall you describing him as 'childish and underpaid'."

"Because no-one could possibly be paid enough to lie that badly."

Both brothers completed what had, by now, become a catchphrase between them together, and burst into laughter.

"Still," Itagne continued, "I wonder why you aren't helping her now?"

"She's taking an elective in Political Science that runs through the early part of the lunch break. In fact I probably ought to be going now if I'm going to meet her when that finishes. See you in a couple of days."

"You too, brother."

Itagne watched as his brother made his way out of the dining hall, and mused. There surely couldn't be two tall second year students taking Contemporary History and Political Science, and he'd run into one this morning. And naturally asked if she was free the next evening to go to the student player's latest performance.

* * * * * * * * * *

A couple of days later the brothers once again met over lunch.

"I hear you went to the theatre the other night, was it any good?"

"The performance was quite abysmal actually; I was tempted to leave halfway through, but the duty of courtesy to my guest prevented me of course."

"Have you been making another conquest then?"

"I'm not sure I'd go that far, she seemed unsurprisingly unimpressed by my aesthetic sense but did suggest that we go hear Arbat's third symphony tomorrow so it can't have been entirely unsuccessful."

Itagne paused, "How did the essay writing go?"

"Contemporary History are still as mad as we ever thought, but I think we put together a passable essay between the two of us. At least she appears not to be taking their line hook and sinker. She reckoned she'd get her first feedback on the essay tomorrow, but in the meanwhile I'm offering her advice on her Political Science supervisor, and we're meeting for tea tomorrow afternoon to discuss things...."

* * * * * * * * * *

By the next time they met Oscagne was also having his suspicions, which were particularly inflamed by the fact that his inamorata had been humming something that was unmistakably the second movement of Arbat's symphony.

"...seemed quite appreciative of the bunch of flowers I gave her."

"The concert went down very well, it was one of the best performances of that piece of music that I've heard in ages."

"You know, It, is this young woman of yours..."

"...yes...?"

"...well, is she..."

"...yes...?"

Oscagne sighed, realising that he couldn't bring himself to ask directly, "...some kind of music buff or something then?"

It sounded very weak, even to him, but Itagne seemed, uncharacteristically, not to notice and lunch continued as a symposium on cultural virtues.

* * * * * * * * * *

A few days later things were looking somewhat less rosy; both brothers' further advances had been increasingly firmly rebuffed, and lunch was surrounded more by a sequence of disconnected observations than a conversation.

"...Pass the salt please..."

"...Mother sends her love..."

Finally, however, Oscagne felt moved to speak out.

"I can't stand it any longer. Tell me Itagne, is the woman that you're seeing the same one that I'm seeing?"

"I've been wondering much the same thing myself, after all there can't be that many students of Contemporary History and Political Science who like the music of Arbat and are in the year between us."

"Well, I've been talking about..." he was interrupted mid-sentence by an arrival at the far end of the commissary, and indicated the newcomer to his brother, "...her, in fact."

"Yes, then, we are indeed talking about the same woman," was the melancholy conclusion, "so, I guess that this is a contest that you are winning for once?"

"It hardly seems like it from here. Truth be, I'd almost be willing to stand aside in your favour, given the success I've been having recently."

"That's almost my experience too," this time it was Itagne's turn to be derailed mid-conversation, "who's that?" he asked, pointing at the young gentleman accompanying the subject of their conversation.

"I have no idea. Actually, just a second, isn't that Rengian?"

"Rengian?"

"One of my classmates in that Contemporary History class; he's not a complete idiot, but plays one for the record."

"So, what's he doing with her?"

"Perhaps he's the reason we've been doing so badly recently?"

The older brother reached out an hand towards his younger sibling, who grabbed it in a "secret handshake" they'd shared since they were children and winked.

"So, then. Peace in favour of an offensive elsewhere?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Like many wars, the brothers just blundered into this one, and by the time they realised what the other's objective was they'd already both lost it.

By the time I actually discovered what they'd done to poor old Rengian, I'd already passed over him in favour of another man, of course.

 


End file.
